


Cat Calling

by Vinnocent



Series: Wolfstuck [5]
Category: Homestuck, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Death Threats, Gun Violence, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mass Death, Mind Control, Needles, Nudity, Stabdads, Unethical Experimentation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6076770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the world's shittiest sheriff finally starts to make some headway, a scientist adds her input, the supposedly dead begin to appear increasingly living, and our favorite newly minted beta werewolf tries to navigate a budding romance while also dealing with his unknown alpha. Contains scenes of familial humiliation, punches to the face, aggressive interrogation, emotional manipulation, and bears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

\-- texanTransplant [TT] began pestering aimlessRenegade [AR] --  
\-- aimlessRenegade [AR] is Away! --  
TT: Yo, tell me when you are up.  
\-- aimlessRenegade [AR] is Active! --  
AR: ?  
TT: Hm?  
TT: Oh right.  
TT: Gimme a sec to remember its been a couple hours.  
TT: *remember. It has  
AR: Go to sleep.  
TT: No. You are not my real mom.  
AR: Then put your pants on and come into work on time for once in your life.  
TT: Renegade, that is by far the most disgusting thing you have ever said to me. Also, possibly, the longest.  
TT: Also, I have pants on, thank you. I still have not changed from yesterday on account of the fact that I am still working.  
AR: ?  
TT: Oh right, that is what I wanted to talk to you about.  
TT: Okay, so there is an angle to the case that cannot be worked publicly. But I cannot do it on my own because at the very least I need a witness so Redglare will not gut me later, but also because you are a better cop than me.  
AR: Go on.  
TT: Right, but the thing is, this angle is gonna sound super fucking crazy, so I kinda need to feel you out on it before deciding you are definitely my partner on this even though I have no fucking clue who else I could get.  
TT: … Also, remind me to appoint another deputy.  
AR: Tell me your angle.  
TT: Right.  
TT: Um.  
AR: ?  
TT: Give me a second, it takes a lot of willpower to say something this stupid.  
AR: ?  
TT: Sigh.  
TT: Okay.  
TT: So.  
TT: Um.  
TT: What is your opinion on werewolves?  
AR: Annoying.  
AR: Less annoying than Serkets.  
AR: More annoying than teenagers.  
TT: I am actually surprised by how much I am not surprised that you already knew about the werewolves.  
AR: I listen.  
TT: Point taken.  
TT: Okay, so obviously all our werewolf details need to stay off the record. We will keep that evidence in our personal accounts, and make up human excuses for the public record.  
AT: ?  
TT: ??  
AR: Which case?  
TT: Ampora/Peixes/Harley  
TT: Also maybe Speakers?  
AR: Start a murder board. Easiest way to catch me up.  
TT: I said secret, not posted on the station wall.  
AR: https://www.google.com/search?q=website+for+dumbasses+who+need+to+make+a+flowchart+online  
TT: Okay, I can take a hint.  
AR: I will tell the station you’re sick.  
TT: Okay, that is my official reason, but hint that it is because I am still pissed at Jake.  
AR: ?  
TT: Bro, there is so much to catch you up on.  
\-- texanTransplant [TT] ceased pestering aimlessRenegade [AR] --

texanTransplant [TT] opened memo on board STRILONDES UNITE  
TT: Yo, everyone at Lalonde House at 1000. Family meeting time.  
TT: Anyone who is late gets to make a new ALS Challenge video.  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] has responded to memo --  
TG: you literally just hit me and dirk with that  
TT: Then you should have no problem finding motivation to wake up.  
TG: im typing at you right now clearly im awake  
TT: If you are not vertical, then you are not awake.  
TG: urg when do you want to leave by  
TT: 0940  
TG: fine have you used all the hot water yet  
TT: It should be recharged by now.  
TG: then i call bathroom before dirk wakes up and camps out there  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] has responded to memo --  
TT: May I inquire as to what this meeting is about or is it a “surprise” again?  
TT: I have been informed by your brothers that you already fucking know.  
TT: …  
TT: I’m going to get bucketed whether I’m on time or not, aren’t I?  
TG: yeah probly  
TG: he took most of it out on us last night but hes still kinda pissy  
TT: He is also still in the memo that he opened.  
TG: sorry didnt realize your pissiness was news to you  
TT: Go take your fucking shower.  
TG: i thought i was supposed to call mom in the morning  
TT: You were.  
TT: But I am still pissy.  
TT: So I am making this a pain in the ass for everyone.  
\-- geneticMomtini [GM] has responded to memo --  
GM: was gon on????  
TT: The kids are in trouble.  
GM: ooooooh  
GM: STRIFNG TIMEZ!!! :D  
TG: youre all fucking crazy  
GM: well that IS how u wer made so  
TG: EW  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] has left the memo --  
TT: Thanks for getting our precious baby to finally take his shower, Doc.  
GM: n e time ;)

By the time you’ve finished your shower, the deep bruises on your arms and shoulders have faded enough to be hidden by your dark skin, and the cuts littering your skin are thin white lines. Hopefully, by the time you finish dressing, the melanin will have filled in, and you’ll have gotten through another night without freaking out Dirk and Bro.

Unfortunately, Dirk doesn’t have a concept of knocking. “Yo, Bro wants me to tell－” He cuts himself off and blinks at you owlishly as you quickly turn aside to finish pulling your pants up. There’s less cuts along your back, you think, so that should be okay. Of course the broken window at the end of your room that you haven’t stacked shit back in front of kind of gives it away. “Dafuk?”

“Look, I know I’m an unbelievably fine specimen of humanity, but you gotta stop the ogling, dude. Nature and nurture both make it all kinds of inappropriate,” you grumble.

“Did you get in a fight with a wolverine?” he demands.

Oh good, he still hasn’t noticed the window. Maybe you can lie your way out of this. “Believe it or not, I’ve been sparring with Bec. Apparently, the Harleys put him on Dave-watch to－”

“No, you haven’t,” he says. “Why are you－”

“Look, would you just－”

“What happened to your window?” he snaps. Awe, shit. Without waiting for an answer, he crosses your room. You pull on your shirt quickly as you try to think of an explanation that’s less worrying than the truth, but he’s already pulling your turntables away from the wall. “Holy shit.”

“Dude, it’s not－”

“BRO!”

“Goddammit, Dirk!”

From the main room, Bro calls back, “Unless someone is hemorrhaging, I don’t give a shit!”

“IT’S FINE!” you reply at the same time Dirk shouts, “DAVE IS!”

“AM NOT!”

“YOU WERE!”

Bro is already in the doorway. “What’s－ holy shit.” He crosses the room like he thinks something’s about to explode at him and places himself between you and the window like he legit thinks it might jump out of the wall and maul you. To be honest, with all the blood on the window sill and wall beneath, it probably looks like it’s already done that. He turns back to you and demands, “The fuck happened here?”

You look away. “Technically, I don’t really recall.”

“Technically?!” Bro snaps.

“Your alpha is still calling you out at night?” Dirk asks, but his tone makes it clear that it’s more of a conclusion than a question. He’s got his hands clasped behind him to keep from touching anything as he inspects the mostly shattered window and the bars he had recently installed outside of it. “There’s claw marks everywhere within arm’s reach, and I’m going to have to get some longer, stronger screws, because you’ve actually managed to slightly dislodge it on one side. We should try safety glass, because even if the bars keep you in, we don’t really want anyone looking up to see some crazy person flailing out the window. Also not all of this blood is recent?”

Bro turns to you again with an accusing glare, and again you look away, ashamed. You cross your arms trying to pretend you’re stubborn and not sick to your stomach. “It’s happened twice since you installed the bars,” you tell them. “Not every night. I promise. It’s okay.”

“ _Okay?_ ” Bro demands. “Dave, we are _a dozen stories up_! Why would he even－ Are you even able－” He stops, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Then another one. And another one. Finally, he says, “Dirk, make a shopping list. Dave, finish getting ready.” As Dirk darts out of the room, Bro surprises you by pulling out his phone and taking a picture.

“Uh, just curious,” you ask as cautiously as possible, “exactly what is that supposed to be evidence of?”

“’s not evidence,” he mumbles. “It’s leverage.” He fiddles with his phone a bit before finally putting it away again. He considers you for a moment, before deciding to actually explain himself. “Harley still ain’t answerin’ shit. Last time he said anything was to plead for Jade _not_ to be released. So I’ve been going over ever single thing he ever did say on record, tearing it apart at the seams. And that’s how I reached my plan of attack,” he tells you. “Five years ago, Harley’s a dumb little shit, fresh out of the academy, interviewing for an officer position. I ask why he wants the job. He says he wants to help people, and I’m like ‘And?’ Because everyone says that, but usually it’s a steady paycheck, or the service weapon, or, sometimes, the ability to disproportionately influence who gets arrested, which motivates people to apply. But Harley, he’s genuine. He insists that’s what he wants. Yes, he needs a job, but he already had an offer for a teaching position at the gun range he used to clean up at. No, he wants to help people. He’s seen people hurt terribly, he tells me, and he wants to do what he can for anyone else facing that pain.”

You shake your head, not sure of the point of this speech. “So what? You’re trying to appeal to his need to help me?” you ask.

Bro shakes his head. “He already thinks he’s helping. He burned the evidence because we could have used it to prove that it _wasn’t_ him; if he’d done it, he wouldn’t have needed to destroy evidence when he knew that he was about to confess. He thinks, somehow, that he’s protecting someone by doing this,” he says. “So I’m gonna prove him wrong. I’m gonna show him exactly who he’s hurting and exactly how much.”

“What?” Dirk demands, reentering the room. “Bro, he doesn’t deserve that.”

“I don’t care what he deserves!” Bro snaps. “Jake is not, _cannot_ , be my priority right now while _children_ are being murdered, maimed, and manipulated. Dave is trying to climb out a twelfth story window and bleeding all over the place in the process. Jade is being mind-raped by the queen bitch of hell city. Peixes girls are dropping like flies. Eridan Ampora is out there running from we don’t even know what yet. And yet Jake is sitting in that cell, _purposefully_ covering it all up. I don’t care if I have to tear his soul apart, so long as I get some _fucking answers_.”

You have never, ever seen Bro this angry before, and it is _terrifying_. Dirk looks like he’s torn between arguing on principal and making a run for it before he gives Bro a reason to turn that anger toward him (such as arguing on principal). As Bro barks out orders for you two to finish up and get your asses down to the truck, you realize that you’re also relieved. For the first time in weeks, you actually feel like you can fight this. Bro would never allow for anything less.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time you can see the Lalonde house looming up into view, Bro has chilled out some. It helps that he’s too busy on his tablet to actually drive and has instead delegated the task to Dirk (who’s still on his learner’s permit because he doesn’t actually give a shit). Your phone buzzes with a Pesterchum alert, and you pull it out of your pocket to see a Trollian invite to the board “Megiido Mystery Theater”. Despite the title, it seems to be a board initiated by Sollux. All of the past memos are locked and were all locked within a few days of their creation with very little activity on each one.

You fire off a quick message to him asking why you were invited to this fuckery, then you think of a better question. “Uh, Bro, are the Captor twins still in jail?”

“Yeah, but not long,” he mumbles absently. “They’ll be released at the end of forty-eight hours or when we finish with their computers. Whichever comes first.”

Dirk snorts. “You’re still not done? How lazy is your tech crew?”

“Dude, do you know what their last-ditch security measure is?” Bro demands. “Thirty-seven terabytes of porn. It takes a while to get through.” He glances back over his shoulder. “Wait, you’re not dating one of them, are you?”

“No!” You kick his seat. “It was－”

“Sssh, let him guess,” Dirk teases, and Bro elbows him.

You roll your eyes at them. “ _Anyway_ , I ask because Sollux sent me a board invite like three minutes ago? Which means he’s got at least one internet-capable device in that cell with him?”

Bro snorts. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the little freaks hide cells up their asses ‘just in case.’”

“Oh god, can we please never bring the Captors’ asses up in conversation again?” you beg loudly, and Bro and Dirk both snicker at you.

Dirk pulls into the Lalonde’s long driveway and, eventually, up to the house. He parks out in front of the door because he’s a lazy motherfucker. You’re all surprised when, mere seconds later, Roxy bursts out of the front door with an angry, “STRIDER!”

You and Bro both turn to face Dirk. “The fuck did you do now?” Bro hisses at him as he finishes climbing out of the pickup and slams the door closed. But Dirk just shrugs, staring at the oncoming Roxy with a frozen, tense stance. He stinks of terror.

But Roxy storms right past him and gets in your face. “WHY DID YOU THROW HER AWAY?!” she demands.

“I… What?” you ask.

“CALLIOPE! YOU PUT HER RECIEVER IN THE TRASH CAN!” she accused.

“Who is－ Wait, your internet stalker?” you ask.

She laughs at you. “My what?” she demands.

“Dude, uranianUmbra?” you tell her. “That creep was _watching you_ from that device on your desk.”

“No, she wasn’t!” Roxy objects. “I built that device myself! It wasn’t even connected to the internet! It can only contact my phone!”

“Which she knew when I picked up!”

“BECAUSE SHE’S LITERALLY IN THE ROOM, YOU ASSHOLE!”

You stare at her, wondering if the booze has done permanent damage. “What?” you demand.

Dirk makes a noise, burying his face in his hands like he’s embarrassed _for_ her. “Is this the stupid lightning bug ghost, again?” he grumbles.

And then Roxy punches him.

“Whoa! Hey! Okay,” Bro cries, suddenly involving himself. He grabs her wrist and tries to haul her backward, but she twists away from him. He’s clearly torn between trying again just to keep fists out of the argument again and letting Roxy have her say. He settles on, “No more punching!”

“Fuck you!” Roxy spits back at him. She rounds on Dirk. “And fuck you!” She rounds on you. “And fuck you!” Awe man, she’s actually crying. “I am so fucking tired of Striders sticking their noses into everything! I am so tired of you deciding you can make my decisions better than me!”

“Well, maybe if you were less of a gigantic lush,” Dirk mumbles. Immediately, his face is a mask of ‘oh shit, I said that out loud.’ Broken Strider filter strikes again.

The silence hangs between the four of you for way too long, as Roxy goes from surprised to hurt to seething. Oh shit indeed. “No,” she says way too quietly. “No, this started before then. All three of you, you would never trust me to lead my life how I want.” Though she says that to all of you, her razor focus is on Dirk, who is slowly curling up under her gaze, trying to make himself subtly smaller, probably without even realizing. “You’d never let it go, would you? Even if I was an exact Dirk-copy. No one goes through your life without getting royally fucked over in the process; I’m just the only one who will put up with it, and it _isn’t fair_. I deserve better than your constant disapproval.”

“I－”

“ _I_ believed _you_!” she counters, outright sobbing now. Shit shit shit…

“Okay.”

“Oh just, shut－” She stops and blinks at him. “Okay?” she repeats.

He nods, hands lifted up in a ‘please don’t hurt me’ gesture. “Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, you’re right. Okay, I’ve been horrible to you. Okay, you deserve to be listened to. Okay, you deserve to be believed. Okay, I… I… um… There’s probably more stuff,” Dirk flounders. Bro leans in toward his ear and whispers something. Dirk winces. “I should also stop being a disrespectful assface who doesn’t run things by you first.”

“Seconded,” you add quickly, recognizing that last one as your own fuck up that had set her off in the first place.

Roxy is still angry-pouting, but she looks like she wants to believe him. “And?” she asks. There’s an angry tone to it, but her body language says she’s scared of the answer she’ll get.

Dirk struggles. “And… uh… I… Won’t diss the lightning bug?”

“Promise to be a nicer person,” she supplies.

“Well, now you’re asking the impossible,” he says, and she stomps on his instep. “OW! OKAY! JESUS! I promise… No, wait, let me make one I can keep. I promise to reduce my asshole quotient.”

“You have to actually try,” she says. “No conveniently forgetting the next time someone irritates you.”

Dirk nods. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

She turns to you and pushes a finger into your chest. “And you?” she demands.

“I… promise not to touch your junk without asking first?” you try.

Bro winces. “Can you also work on phrasing things less incestuously?” he asks.

But that only gets Roxy’s attention on him. “And _you_ ,” she says. “You are _not_ getting what you want!”

Bro blinks at her in confusion. “What are－?”

“Do you realize that it has been a _month_ since any of you visited?” she demands. “You finally come around for a ‘family meeting’, and it’s to discuss werewolves? She is the _mother of two of your children_ , you jerkface. So, you are going to go in there and visit like polite boys that know how to treat their family well. Do you understand me?”

Bro swallows. “But－”

“Do you _understand me_?!” she challenges.

Bro sighs. “Yeah, okay, fine. I’ll tell her about Dave tomorrow in a less dramatic fashion.”

“Thank you,” she says. She isn’t back to her bubbly self right away, but she looks hopeful. You’re not sure how to read it when that expression mellows out pretty quickly and she leads the three of you inside the house, but she seems fine? Roxy’s never had a poker face, so you don’t have to worry too much, do you?

“Hi, guys!” Mom calls from the general direction of the dining room. It’s then that you realize Roxy is headed back upstairs to wash her face before Mom finds out she was crying, and it’s time to stop following her. With a little embarrassment, you double back to Bro and Dirk, who are snickering at you. “Come on back, everything is almost ready!”

You make your way to the dining room, which is just as absurdly over-decorated as everything else in this place. Rose sits at a way-too-big dining table, looking bored while she reads something on her tablet. She barely lifts a hand to wave hello to the three of you. Apparently, some wizard can’t get their shit together, because she’s scowling. On the table is an elaborate spread of Mexican take-out on the good china (which is her only china). You scowl as you take your seat. Something about it smells off.

Doctor Lilianne Lalonde, known to most people (even if they aren’t related) as “Mom” (or “Doc” if they’re sticklers like Dirk), bursts in from the kitchen door behind you with enough guac for a Peixes house party. “Okay, guys, dig in!” she tells you. “Wait, where’s－”

She’s interrupted by the gagging coughs you can’t hold back. She is standing right over you with that goddamn tray, and it smells like poison. Her grin immediately falters. “Dave!” Bro snaps at you.

“I… I thought you all liked Mexican?” she asks, pouting.

“I do! I do!” you insist. You barely hold back another gagging noise. “I just… I think they made this wrong? It smells terrible.”

“What are you talking about?” Bro asks. “It smells fine.”

“You don’t smell that?” you demand. How could anyone not smell that?

“It’s all on the list,” Rose sighs, putting her tablet down. Oh, she was on the internet, not a novel. Wait, what list? There’s a picture of golden retriever on the screen. “I forgot to check until you were here. Spices, dairy, avocado, corn, onions… It’s all toxic or indigestible to you.”

Mom looks confused, glancing between you and Rose for an explanation. Then, her eyes land on the tablet. Her face falls further. “Oh, honey…” she sighs, setting down the tray as far from you as she can without leaving your side. Then, she’s wrapping you in a hug, and you have no idea why.

“What? I don’t－? Why can’t I have onions? Why is Mom hugging me?”

Rose tries to surreptitiously lift the tablet so you can see the article, titled “ _Foods your dog should never eat_.” Fuck your life. Doesn’t explain why Mom is hugging you and… patting your head. You squirm and bat at her arms, trying to make her stop. Rose, thank god, takes mercy on you. “Mom, you’re making Dave uncomfortable with your completely disproportionate reaction to a mere food allergy,” she says, pulling her tablet back into her lap.

Mom perks up at that. “Allergy?” she repeats. She looks to Rose in confusion. “I thought you were looking at an article on canine digestion.”

Rose looks like a deer in the headlights. “I… What? No. Of course… I mean…” Then, she pauses, considers, and returns, “Wait, why… Why do you think I’d be looking up canine digestion for Dave?”

“Well, I assumed that if you were, he must have been bitten by a werewolf. They can’t eat any of those things you listed, you know.”

Everyone stares at her in disbelief. With a groan, you let your head thump against the table.


	3. Chapter 3

Once Roxy’s back at the table, Mom explains herself while carefully plucking out the blandest bits of food from the array to drop on your plate. (You pointed out that it’s ten in the morning, so there’s no reason for the buffet. She counters with “You’re too skinny.” and “Roxy told me you don’t have breakfast.”) “Well, I did tell you that I was a biologist for rare morphological disorders,” she says casually. “I don’t know what you thought I meant.”

“To be honest, Doc, I kinda tune out when you speak nerd,” Bro admits.

Mom snorts and rolls her eyes at him. “You used to be a nerd, remember?” she reminds him. “You had all these robotics projects. What happened to that?”

He just shrugs. “I tinker sometimes, when Dirk lets me, but I’m so behind now,” he admits, leaning on his elbow. “No one really wants to hire you for tech when you didn’t graduate high school. At least that was the case in the 90s, back when rebel geek was less common. Now all my knowledge and experience is outdated.”

“You weren’t a rebel geek; you were a violent weeaboo,” she corrects, which gets a proper snicker out of him. Mom’s the only one who’s ever been able to wring laughter out of his stone face. He’s a whole different person around her. Too bad he is incredibly fucking gay, and she has long ago stopped finding his mistakes endearing.

“So, like, the government has you study werewolves?” Roxy asks as she digs into a pile of enchiladas.

Mom pauses in picking out food that’s okay for you to eat and turns to Roxy with utter disbelief. “Roxy, you _work_ for me,” she says. “You compile all my data!”

Roxy tilts her head and smiles the sort of smile you give a puppy that can’t figure out that waggling thing that keeps evading him is his own goddamn tail. “Mom, I don’t have to read or understand your work to compile it. I just set the parameters and let it go.”

“... Oh.” Mom clearly has no idea what that means, but she lets it go. “Well, anyway, yes, sort of. Really, it’s any of the supernatural humanoids. My specialty is humans with genomes that have been altered by an outside source, like a virus. Primarily werewolves and kanimas.”

Rose leans forward. “Kanima… the man-cat?” she asks.

“Reptile is also a common variation for the particularly cold-blooded,” says Mom. She puts the plate in front of you and finally takes her own seat at the table. “The fascinating thing is that both types originate from different strains of the same infection, but the cause of strain mutation seems to be psychological in nature, and the results are predictable even in those who have never had contact with another kanima. The only real difference between the two is the kanima’s ability to mutate further and the fact that werewolves are bonded to packs while kanimas are bonded to individuals.”

“You keep saying ‘virus,’” says Bro. He gestures to you. “Are you saying this is a disease? That it can be cured?”

Mom squirms in her seat and looks no one in the face. “I… Yes, it is a disease, but…” She sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, we haven’t found a cure, yet. As much as I may babble about it, we don’t actually know much. Much of the cause and method of the infection is still, well, magic.”

Wow, you’re so glad you’re texting under the table instead of paying rapt attention to this conversation. By the time her words get sorted out in your brain, they’ve lost all their impact, so you’re not particularly disappointed. Instead, under the table, you’re testing the theory that you and your siblings may have been the last people in town who didn’t know about werewolves. The results are mixed.

==> MASS PESTER: apocalypseArisen [AA], arsenicCatnip [AC], adiosToreador [AT], cuttlefishCuller [CC], carcinoGeneticist [CG], twinArmageddons [TA]  
TG: so what would you say if i told you i was a werewolf

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--  
TG: so what would you say if i told you i was a werewolf  
CG: DAVE, IF YOU WANT TO DO WEIRD FURRY ROLEPLAY, MESSAGE NEPETA. I AM NOT HERE FOR THAT.  
TG: just checkin  
CG: ???  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT EVEN ABOUT, YOU DICKSORE?

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] \--  
TG: so what would you say if i told you i was a werewolf  
AA: yeah i  
AA: im sorry about that dave :(  
AA: i shouldve taken you seriously in the forest  
TG: you knew  
AA: only after it happened!!!  
AA: and only because it was connected to a death  
TG: what do you mean  
TG: aradia  
AA: and really i wasnt sure at first but the way things have been going it got pretty obvious pretty fast and i am so sorry i didnt leave when you wanted to and i didnt know how to tell you and you were acting like everythings okay so i thought maybe if i pretended too you wouldnt be mad at me  
TG: jegus  
TG: no aradia its fine please dont cry im not mad at you  
TG: this was a mass text to find out how many people know already  
TG: i didnt  
TG: i didnt know you blamed yourself thats not okay  
TG: youre not my alpha you didnt make this happen  
AA: oh  
AA: still  
TG: no still  
TG: look im having lunch with mom rn i didnt know i was initiating a bigger conversation but i will talk to you when i get back home okay  
AA: yeah okay  
\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] \--

Rose kicks you under the table, and you look up across the table her. She tilts her head meaningfully toward the rest of the family. Awe, shit, you tuned out. Mom, Bro, and Dirk are talking about… maps? “Wait, why are manifesting our destiny?” you ask.

The conversation comes to a screeching halt, and eyes turn to you. Oops. Bro’s wtf expression, communicated entirely by a slight twinge of his lips, melts into exasperation. “You tuned out, huh?” he says. “Put the phone away and eat. Doc says that she’ll take a variety of samples from you and run them against her database. There’s a chance she can find your alpha that way.”

Well, that has your attention. “You have a database of werewolves that you can check me against?” you ask.

“Well, we have very few volunteer subjects,” she says, “so the database is fairly incomplete. If your strain even matches one we’ve found, we may not have the current alpha or pack on file. But it would still be more information than you are currently operating with.”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold yer houses,” says Roxy, and you wince a little. “You have _non_ -voluntarily subjects?”

Again, Mom fidgets. Huh. “We don’t hurt anyone,” she says quietly, her tone almost whining. “But… It is necessary to track the progress of these outbreaks, but it is by nature a very secretive thing. Most of the time, to acquire our data, we have no choice but to gather material without permission. From salons. From medical appointments. From unclaimed corpses. For the wild ones, we have people who tranquilize subjects to take samples, and I know that’s so immoral, but it’s also so incredibly important, and in fields like these, sometimes you just have to make that choice.”

“Did you just say ‘unclaimed corpses’?” Bro presses.

Mom pouts down at the plate in front of her. Despite buying enough food to feed a small nation (or maybe just a handful of Roxies), she’s barely touched her own. “They… It is… It’s a very violent culture,” she mumbles. “The dead tend to be one of our best sources of information since they are... plentiful.”

Yeah, you’ve definitely lost your appetite now. Your phone buzzes for the second or third time since you put it back in your pocket, and you glance to Bro to see if he noticed, but he’s asking her questions about who, exactly is in the know. Apparently, it’s more of a state issue than a federal one, with both OBI and WBI having departments like hers, though she thinks she’s heard of the FBI handling outbreaks in states that don’t have such departments due to it being an uncommon thing. She knows that much of the government and general populace _don’t_ know, but in your region it’s more common to have experiences with the supernatural due to a “beacon” in the area that attracts them like flies, which sounds a little Buffy to you, but sure whatever.

You pull out your phone and glance at it as subtly as possible.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering cuttlefishCuller [CC] \--  
TG: so what would you say if i told you i was a werewolf  
CC: Oh, good! I was starting to worry you hadn’t even figured out that much! 8D  
\-- cuttlefishCuller [CC] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] \--

The fuck? Okay, well, that answers that question and leaves about fifty more. You’re starting to think that’s the only kind of conversation she has.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] \--  
CG: NO SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ABOUT?  
CG: DAVE?  
CG: DAVE YOU BLISTERING FUCKWIT ANSWER ME  
TG: sorry in the middle of a family meeting  
CG: THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU MESSAGING ME WITH WEIRD RP SHIT?  
TG: it was a mass pester because im bored and wanted to see what kind of reactions i would get  
CG: THAT IS THE MOST STUPIDLY DOUCHEY THING I’VE EVER HEARD.  
TG: you knew what you were getting into  
CG: …  
TG: well okay apparently you didnt which is entirely your fault and not at all because ive been embarrassingly vague about my intentions  
CG: YOUR INTENTIONS  
TG: i have so many intentions karkat so many let me show them to you  
TG: dear gog why did i press send  
CG: WHY DO YOU EVER PRESS SEND? WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE A MESSENGER? WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO PLACE YOURSELF IN PUBLIC SPACES WHERE OTHERS WILL BE SUBJECTED TO YOUR IDIOCY?  
CG: THESE ARE THE ETERNAL QUESTIONS OF OUR EXISTENCE.  
TG: yeah so hey speaking of that do you maybe want to let me intend at you some place where pyrope and a few dozen witnesses arent gawking  
CG: I DON’T KNOW. DO YOU THINK YOU CAN KEEP YOURSELF FROM FAINTING?  
TG: probly not but its not my fault youre a lot for one girl to handle  
CG: WHY ARE YOU SUCH AN OBTUSE DICKMUNCH?  
TG: i was raised by dirk strider sr  
TG: so is that a yes

He doesn’t reply immediately, and the smirk you hadn’t realized you’d sprouted slowly starts to melt into a frown. Then, just as the little “carcinoGeneticist [CG] is typing” pops up, Dirk yanks the phone out of your hands. “What?! No!” you object, making a grab for it and nearly knocking your plate off the table, but Dirk has already tossed the phone to Bro.

Bro sets the phone down between himself and Mom, telling you, “We’re having this conversation for your sake, you ungrateful little-- Doc, what are you doing?”

Mom, to your great mortification, has picked up the phone and started typing. “Oh, I’m just letting his little boyfriend know why the conversation has been cut off. I’d hate for a small punishment to escalate into a breakup.”

“Wait, boyfriend?” Bro asks, trying to twist to see over Mom’s shoulder in spite of your loud objections that this is an invasion of privacy. “Who?”

Mom scrolls up. “Um… Karkat? Is that a typo?”

“SLICK’S KID?!”

To the great amusement of your siblings, you sink down in your seat, hide your face in your hands, and start praying that the alpha will just burst through the window at any moment and murder you right there. It would be so much easier to deal with.

“He says ‘yes’, by the way,” Mom informs you before sliding the phone into her pocket.

Okay, well, maybe things aren’t _that_ bad.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, but looks like updates will be delayed for possibly as much as three weeks. Details are in the comments.

Eventually, Mom starts leading you to her personal genetics lab downstairs. Bro has absconded with Roxy for some new cop project he’s roped her into (facial recognition?), but only after having assigned Dirk to “teach Stilinski over the phone how to install Pesterchum,” and you’re starting to think from all Dirk’s bitching at the old geezer means the punishments aren’t actually over yet. Or maybe Bro just didn’t want to be stuck with it. Still, Pesterchum’s easily wipeable local .txt logs make it really easy to keep shit private when you’re being sketchy, and Stilinski, god help him, is the kind of dumbass who would talk about werewolves on his BHPD e-mail, which is subject to the Freedom of Information Act. Rose has probably absconded to knit or read books or some bullshit like that.

You realize on the stairs down that it hasn’t been just you and Mom together since you were about half as tall. Wow. Does that make you a bad son? How the hell are you supposed to make it up to her? Are you supposed to, or is this just a normal growing up thing? “So, uh, how are things?” you ask.

She fucking snickers at you, the jerk. “Well, I recently found out my son is a werewolf,” she teases. She glances back over her shoulder. “How are _you_?”

“Um, okay, I guess?” you flounder. “I’ll be better once we find out who my fucking alpha is and _holy shit are we doing an alien autopsy?!_ ” You look around the laboratory, feeling a mixture of startled and fascinated and intimidated. The place is pretty fucking sizable, though you don’t think it’s actually the _whole_ basement. It gleams polished white and steel, and it is absolutely filled to the brim with machinery you can’t even begin to guess at and a chemistry set that would make Walter White wet his pants.

“Don’t be silly,” she laughs as she begins collecting things from drawers and depositing them on top of a little rolling cart thingy. “Autopsies are for the deceased. With you, it would be a vivisection. Hop up on the table, will you?”

It is then that you see that the only examination table in the room is not blue-padded like the doctor’s office, but is instead a bare steel slat that’s angled inward and has a drain at one end like CSI. “Uh…”

“Oh, right!” She starts fidgeting with the folds of her oddly fashionable labcoat and pulls out your phone. “Here you go, dear. I think you can keep yourself entertained while I take my samples?”

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You take the phone and go to sit on the table, trying not to think about how many dead people have been on it. Oh hey, more messages.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering arsenicCatnip [AC] \--  
TG: so what would you say if i told you i was a werewolf  
AC: :3 < *ac perks up in interest* that depends! why would you ask?  
TG: because im a werewolf  
AC: :3 < oh my gosh dave that’s great!!  
TG: uh sure yeah  
AC: :3 < we should totes hangout sometime and be animal buddies!!  
TG: uh okay are you saying that because of your furry rp shit or because you’ve got were-thingy junk of your own  
AC: :3 < oops! mom found pounce’s catnip i have to go!  
TG: ?????  
\-- arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] \--

You feel a prick and a hot sensation in you bicep and turn to see your mother drawing blood. “Wow, sneaky,” you say, and she cackles happily.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering twinArmageddons [TA] \--  
TG: so what would you say if i told you i was a werewolf  
TA: yeah, we know, diip2hiit.  
TA: why do you thiink we iinviited you two AA2 board?  
TG: just checkin  
TG: also yeah what the hell is that about  
TA: 5H3 D1DN7 73LL Y0U???  
TA: weiird 2he2 the one that a2ked us two add you, but ii gue22 2he thought 2hed get around two iit by now.  
TG: two what  
TG: dammit to what  
TG: pretend that didnt happen  
TA: hold on, iim a2kiing her.  
TA: H4H4H4H4 700K 7H3 5CR33NC4P 8R0

You check your other messages while you wait. Mom unloads the nearly-full vial of blood from the syringe, pops in another one, makes sure that everything is tight, then jabs you again. How much does she even need?

TG: so is that a yes  
CG: YES.  
TG: ;osj;gewo  
CG: DAVE, WHAT THE FUCK NOW?  
CG: DAVE?  
TG: oh hi hon sotty wd took the phoen form him  
CG: UH, WHO DID?  
TG: oh sory its me mom  
TG: i mean davies mom  
CG: UH  
TG: were having dinners right now hell havr to yalk yo you lakte  
CG: OH, OKAY.  
CG: …  
CG: NO OFFENSE, BUT ARE YOU OKAY?  
TG: im not ysed to thus tyoe of pphonw  
CG: OH.  
TG: also im very frunk  
CG: … OH.  
TG: anywat byes!!!!  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--  
TG: so does that win the hall of fame award for most awkward convo with a rent that is not your rent or what  
TG: gotta at least be top three  
CG: I CAN’T IMAGINE WHAT COULD POSSIBLY USURP IT ASIDE FROM THAT TIME YOU GOT YOURSELF ON THE BUSINESS END OF DAD'S KNIFE.  
TG: nice to know our families are never that crazy when compared to each other  
CG: ARE YOU FINALLY AWAY FROM YOUR PARENTS?  
TG: nah moms drawing blood for her experiments why didja wanna send me nudes  
CG: YES, DAVE, THAT’S WHAT I  
CG: WAIT, IS THAT REALLY WHAT SHE’S DOING?  
TG: yeah really i can send a pic if youre not squeamish  
CG: NO, WHY WOULD I WANT A PIC OF THAT, YOU ASSTURD.  
TG: are there other kinds of turd  
CG: I MEAN THE FACT THAT SHE HAS A NEEDLE IN YOU AND IS *DRUNK*.  
TG: yeah but shes one of those  
TG: what do you call it  
TG: drunks that do stuff relatively well  
TG: her hands a little shaky but what do i care  
CG: YOU’RE GOING TO GET GANGRENE AND DIE.  
TG: awe you care  
TG: but really this is what she does for a living she could do it in her sleep  
CG: WHY IS YOUR MOTHER EVEN DRAWING YOUR BLOOD?  
TG: idk science bullshit i wasnt paying attention  
CG: WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU NOT PAY ATTENTION TO THAT?  
TG: was thinking about a word  
CG: A WORD.  
TG: yes  
CG: WHAT WORD.  
TG: yes  
CG: …  
CG: OH.  
TG: shes moved on to taking bits of my hair now if that helps  
CG: WHAT?  
CG: UH, RIGHT.  
CG: YEAH, NO, THAT’S BETTER, EVEN IF IT’S STILL WEIRD.  
CG: I HOPE SHE’S USING SAFETY SCISSORS.  
CG: ALSO IT WAS TEN IN THE MORNING WHEN YOU MESSAGED ME, AND IT’S ONLY ELEVEN THIRTY NOW. WHY THE HELL WAS YOUR FAMILY HAVING DINNER, AND HOW THE HELL IS SHE DRUNK ALREADY?  
TG: 1. mom likes to act motherly at us but doesnt actually know how to so every time we come over its takeout buffet time  
TG: 2. she never actually gets undrunk  
TG: also no scissors shes pulling out strands by the root because apparently she hates me  
TG: nope now shes scraping at my nails ugh how much more prodding can she do  
CG: I HAVE NO IDEA, DAVE. SHE’S *YOUR* MOTHER.  
TG: that she is  
TG: oop hold on

You’re forced to tilt your head back and open wide so Mom can jam a long swab down your throat. You barely manage not to throw up on her. “The fuck was that for?” you demand. “I have lycanthropy, not _strep_.”

She just shrugs as she drops the swab in a tube and labels it. “Can never be too thorough, dear.”

When you look down at your phone, you notice there’s a chat window besides Karkat’s that’s open and pestering you. You decide to check it before getting back to him.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering adiosToreador [AT] \--  
TG: so what would you say if i told you i was a werewolf  
AT: uH, IS THIS LIKE SOME KIND OF WORD-TWISTING JOKE LIKE YOU MAKE SOMETIMES?  
TG: nah man forget it  
AT: uM  
AT: oKAY?  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering adiosToreador [AT] \--

Of course, by the time you’ve finished with him, you finally get a reply from the twins.

TA: Y0 H0W M4N1 P33P5 1N 73H KN0W 80U7 Y0UR H0WL1N QU0713N7?  
TG: uh as of today my whole family why  
TA: 44 W1LL 73LL Y0U WH475 UP BU7 N0 BL4BB1NG 0R Y0UR CULL3D! (:D  
TA: 50RRY  
TG: nah thats fair pretty sure my bros would say the same to you  
TG: actually probly rose too  
TA: Y0U N07 S4Y 7H47?  
TG: fuck man both serkets and pyropes know about me now what else is there to worry about  
TA: P31X35  
TG: what  
TA: 2o here2 the deal:  
TA: AA ii2 a ban2hee.  
TG: holy shit  
TA: 2o you already know what that ii2?  
TG: its like a sad british ghost lady that tells you when you die  
TA: H4H4H4H4H4H4  
TA: of all the iidiiot2 we know who couldve gotten biitten, iit had two be you...  
TA: iit mean2 2he has several abiiliitiie2 related two the dead.  
TA: the priimary of whiich ii2 an uncontrollable need two 2cream when 2omeone iis goiing two diie.  
TA: thu2 the board.  
TA: a high-alert memo ii2 po2ted iif 2he 2cream2, iin whiich 2he 2hare2 all the detaiil2 that 2he wa2 able two actually experiience.  
TA: whiich ii2 u2ually ju2t thii2 2iide of jack2hiit.  
TA: but iif we can fiigure iit out iin tiime two do anythiing about iit, we wiill try two.  
TG: wow thats actually really nice  
TG: it was her idea wasnt it  
TA: obviiou2ly.

“Hm, I think I’d actually like to take some scans as well as digestive samples, but that’s for the sake of knowledge, not finding your alpha,” Mom babbles at you. “I think this should be enough for now? Keep sitting there while I double check everything.”

TG: wait aradia screamed in the forest right before i got bit  
TA: 7H47H W45 CR0NU5 (:C  
TG: can i see the memo  
TA: N0 175 L0CK3D 1M 50 50RRY 1M 50RRY  
TG: okay chill tuna i know its locked  
TG: but since youre explaining aradia to me instead of aradia explaining aradia to me im thinking maybe shes still a little raw about being caught with her hand in the supernatural cookie jar she was pretending to know nothing about  
TG: which is fine really but like  
TG: guys if she saw anything i need to know because it could help me find my alpha that douche has jerked my chain a few too many times okay  
TA: H4 1LL J3RK Y0UR CH41N 817CH  
TG: mituna you can tie my chain in a knot if you want if you just let me see that memo  
TA: je2u2, 2o de2perate. iit take2 a 2econd two fiind.  
TA: there. unlocked.  
TA: you 2hould be able to fiind iit. iits the only unlocked memo on the board.

You quickly minimize the chat windows and open back up the board in question. There is, indeed, only one memo available to read.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: So my dad got me sick with some magical mystery virus he came down with from someone at his office. He was super fucking sick for like two weeks and still isn't feeling great, so I decide to nip this in the bud and go to the doctor. I get tested for step and for flu, and both come back negative. Doctor decides it is one of the many heinous viruses apparently rearing their head right now and the only thing to do is "ride it out," which is beautiful because I'm supposed to be spending the first half of March with my fiancee. That was all yesterday, btw, in which I was so miserable that there was no way an update was happening. (Also, I had to pay $99 for that visit, and my fiancee is like WHAT IS AMERICA EVEN. Telling Canadians about American healthcare is always comedy gold.)
> 
> The good news is that despite the fact that I woke up at TWO IN THE GODDAMN MORNING, I seem fine aside from a burning throat and mild congestion. So maybe that's a good sign?? Anyway, the point is that I'm gonna try to get these last few chapters up so you guys won't be left right in the middle of a plotline while I'm on vacation. After this fic is completed, I'll concentrate on building my buffer back up and hopefully come back from vacation ready to keep to schedule again. \o/
> 
> Anyway, y'all have been awesome. Best commenters I've ever had. *MUAH!*

Jake wasn’t surprised when he found Bro in the interrogation room he’d been led into by Renegade. Bro was sitting at the end of the table with his feet up on the edge, idly flipping through a file on his lap (Jake’s file, probably). Jake, in sharp contrast, had his hands cuffed any time he was out of his cell, even in a station full of cops. (He hadn’t realized how humiliating it would be to be on the other end of this, but he still wouldn’t change his mind.) At that moment, his wrists were cuffed behind him, but Renegade was already opening them up so he could cuff Jake to the bar installed in the table.

What did surprise Jake about the scene, however, was that the lights in the observation room next door were still on while the lights in the interrogation room had been dimmed via one of the long fluorescent bulbs being removed. Which meant that he could see clearly into the other room through the two-way mirror, see clearly that there was no one in it recording what happened here.

Was Bro planning on punching him? Jake had to admit, he kind of deserved it, but Bro was going to be sorely disappointed when he got nothing for his efforts.

Once Renegade had Jake sat and properly cuffed to the table, he moved to the door. Jake thought he was going to leave and move to the observation room, but instead Renegade just leaned his shoulders against the door in a way that would make it very, very hard to open from the outside. Um.

“Still not talking?” asked Bro.

Jake looked away guiltily.

“Mind if I talk at you a bit?”

Jake hesitated, then turned to give Bro what he hoped was a suspicious look.

To his surprise, Bro responded with a smirk. “You ain’t anywhere as good at that as Renegade, so I don’t know why you’re tryin’, but go ahead an’ do how you like,” he said. “If’n you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep on talkin’ though. Don’t see how else we’re gonna pass this time.”

Jake said nothing.

Bro stood, pushed his chair back into place (Jake hadn’t been previously aware that Bro knew chairs could do that), and walked around the table such that he was standing in front of Jake. “Let’s start with your so-called aunt. Like you said, she’s not your aunt. You don’t have an aunt on record. To be fair, Condolence Peixes isn’t on any record, either. I’m gettin’ increasingly curious as to whether she plans to actually come in for her appointed interview or not.”

Jake swallowed but continued saying nothing. Bro finally took a seat in the chair across from him.

“But, hey, what’s there to say about a woman that doesn’t exist?” said Bro. “Maybe I should try another angle. We’ve got plenty of them after all, and I can hold you in here as long as I fuckin' like.” That wasn’t actually true, but it didn’t seem to Jake like the appropriate time to remind Bro of that. “So, how about this angle?”

He pulled a small class photo out of the folder and placed it down on the table, facing Jake. “Maya Peixes. Died two weeks ago. Found in the Beacon Hills Preserve with her throat torn out. She was nineteen.” To Jake’s surprise, he pulled out another photo, another school picture. “Nehìr Peixes. Died last year. Found at the mall parking lot in Hill Valley, in her locked car, with saltwater in her lungs. She was seventeen.” He put down another photograph. This one was smaller, from a photobooth. A girl posing with her boyfriend. Her eyes reflect bright circles of light in the picture. “Denìz Peixes died two years before Nehìr. She was found in the attic of an abandoned building half way to L.A., with saltwater in her lungs. She was sixteen.”

“Sir, why are you－?”

“No, no, no!” Bro insisted with an exaggerated fake-concerned tone. “Oh, no, Jake, it’s okay. We agreed you don’t have to talk. I can handle all the conversation. It’s fine. Let’s talk about Hai Peixes.” He places on the table a printed photo of a girl taking a selfie while making a fish face. “Died one year before Denìz. Her body was found in a pile of _garbage_ three towns over, with saltwater in her lungs. She was also nineteen.” He puts down another class picture. “And, of course, just a few months before her was Anat Pei－”

“I KNOW THEIR NAMES!” Jake objected loudly. “Jesus, I－ I know these already! Why are you showing them to me?”

Bro didn’t answer. He just watched Jake carefully. Renegade hadn’t moved an inch since settling in against the door and could’ve been asleep for all Jake knew. Finally, Bro took out the other pictures and laid them out one at a time. He tapped the table almost idly. “So you know about all these girls?”

Jake nodded. “Yes. I’ve seen them all before. Even if I wasn’t a… hadn’t been a police officer, I’d’ve known through my… through Condesce.”

“Condesce?”

“Condolence,” Jake corrected, but Renaud was already writing it down on a notepad. Quick as a flash, the notepad was gone again, tucked into one of Renaud’s many mystery pockets.

Bro nodded. “Okay,” he said. He shoved the pile of photos aside. Jake had counted sixteen. Apparently, the police had missed one. His gaze moved back to Bro when he started removing _more_ photos from the folder. “You know these girls?”

Jake squinted and leaned forward. They weren’t Peixes girls. Most of them were at least half white. The photos were also from the era when people still got their casual photos developed professionally. “Uh… no? Should I?”

“These girls all belonged to the Muir family. They all died before the age of twenty-one. All found in strange places nowhere near the sea with saltwater in their lungs.”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t know them,” he said. It wasn’t really a lie, either. He’d heard there was another family, but… He couldn’t bare thinking about it long enough to investigate further.

Again, Bro watched him for some time before finally shoving that set of pictures aside and setting down a new set. “How about these?”

Jake breathed in sharply. These, he knew. They were a bit older. The clothes said it was probably the 70s and early 80s, maybe late 60s at the earliest. But he recognized that particular mix of African, European, and Pacific features. They were his features. “Harley,” he whispered.

Jake was surprised when, instead of pressing the matter, Bro shoved that set of photos aside, too. Again, he took out more, these in black and white. He tapped the table again. “How about these?”

Jake leaned forward to get a better look and scowled. These, he had never seen before, but a couple of the girls looked a little bit like Jane. Besides, if Bro was going in chronological order, then there was only one family left. “Crocker?” Jake asked.

Bro nodded. “Crocker,” he confirmed. “Funny, how that name kept coming up on every single angle Roxy tried to use to find out who the hell Condolence Peixes even is.” He shrugged. “Not that it even matters now, with all the evidence burned to a crisp. Funny thing, though. It seems these girls have more in common than saltwater drownings on dry land, Maya aside. More in common than the fact that each was part of a twenty- to thirty-year murder spree targeting only girls of similar ages from the same family line. Each cluster of girls came from the same mother.”

He set down a larger photo of familiar woman next to the first pile of photos. Jake immediately looked away. “Condolence Peixes,” said Bro, as though he really needed to tell Jake who it was.

Bro set another photo down by the second pile. “Amity Muir,” he said. Jake needed only a glance to tell him it was Condolence in a slightly dated outfit.

Again, Bro set down another photo, this one by the third set. “Patience Harley.” Jake turned his fists so that Bro wouldn’t see the claws pressing into his palm, but Jake needed the pain to distract himself from the growing seething anger and the consistent helpless despair.

Finally, a fourth photo. Another black and white, by the last set. “Beatrice Crocker,” said Bro. He sat back, gestured to the photos. “Notice anything?”

They were very nearly identical. No more than twenty years of aging between the oldest and newest photos. Jake shrugged. “So they look similar,” he said dismissively. “If you’re thinking they’re the same person, that would make Condolence several decades older than she appears.”

Bro just shrugged right back. “Well, I dunno, Jake. You’re the expert here. Is that a thing werewolves can do?”

Jake looked up at Bro then. Then, over to Renegade, who, at some point, had started texting on his phone. Jake huffed a small, bitter laugh. “Dave told you,” he said.

“Dave didn’t have to tell me,” Bro said. He set his tablet down in front of Jake and played a video. It showed Dave trying to stagger his way out of the apartment, zombie-like, much like Jade had done in the holding cells. Jake looked away. “Who do you think you’re protecting, Jake?” Bro asked. He got up and began to pace the room. “Because it sure as hell isn’t Dave and Jade. It’s not your dozens of cousins. How, exactly, in your mind does it work out that letting her get away with _murder_ will help anyone?” He seemed to suddenly realize that he was pacing and forced himself to stop, standing by the mirror which was currently a window.

“You’re missing photos,” Jake said quietly, a little too calmly.

Bro stared at him, unsure what to make of this statement, waiting to see if Jake would talk further on his own. Finally, he asked, “There are more deaths?”

“Oh, tons more,” said Jake. “For instance, how about the little town of Temple Bay, Hawai‘i? That’s where I’m actually from. Not Honolulu. No one actually bothers looking it up. When they do, they think it must be a clerical error. Because Temple Bay doesn’t exist anymore. No one noticed back when it did, really, a town of four-hundred. And then, four hundred people died in the course of one night. The entire town. Maimed and mauled and mutilated. And all it took to make sure that no one noticed was a few fences and a chunk of change.”

Bro stared at Jake in disbelief. Still leaning against the door, Renegade had put his phone away again. “Why would she do that?” asked Bro.

“Because Hass Harley and Jade Harley the First both lived there,” Jake said. “Because distance and anonymity were the only things that would save them from their alpha. And it worked. Three generations of Harleys lived on that island, and they were very close. Hass’s granddaughter was even named after his sister. But eventually, she found them. She always finds you. No matter how far or how hard or how long you run, she always finds you. And then she punishes you to the most extreme manner she can so that she’ll never have to do it again. Because Hass and Jade had dared to leave, she killed four hundred other people.” He laughs a little to himself. “And the best part? She thinks we’re them. She doesn’t even realize that time has passed. That she slaughtered the very people who had pissed her off along with everyone else. We were a related boy and girl, one of which had the same name, who looked fairly similar to the ones that had left, and that was good enough for her.”

Bro crossed his arms, leaned back against the two-way mirror, and watched Jake for a long while. Jake just watched his own hands. Tried not to look at the tablet, which had followed the videos of Dave with a photo of Dave's shattered window, blood drenching the wall beneath. Tried not to look at the faces of seventy dead girls, all Jade’s age. Tried not to obsess over what Renegade must be thinking behind that permanent snarl and those half-closed eyes. Finally, Bro said, “You actually think you’re protecting all of Fairvale by letting her off all her daughters for whatever reason that she is determined to do that?”

“Let me take the blame, sir,” Jake pleaded. “For whatever comes. Just let it happen, and, in just a couple more years, she’ll move on, and it will be like nothing ever happened here.”

“And then she can birth and destroy another couple dozen girls?” Bro asked. “That would make about a hundred, wouldn’t it?”

“Versus several thousand residents within the limits of Fairvale!” Jake objected.

“How ’bout zero?” Bro demanded. “Is that not an option? To actually put forth a real effort to fucking _stop her_?”

“Because it’s not possible!” Jake exclaimed. “She’s a _demon_ , Dirk. You can’t beat her. I know you don’t let people tell you that, but it is true. So many people have tried, Dirk, and they are all dead. Sometimes… Sometimes you just have to run the numbers.”

“And which number is Jade?”

Jake looked away.

“What about the Speakers?” asked Bro.

Jake laughed. Loudly. “What about the Speakers?” he asked. “They’re an example for my point, not yours. They were all massacred for speaking against her!”

There was, for a split second, a slight lift to Bro’s brow. Apparently, he hadn’t known what, exactly, they’d done to piss Condesce off. Hell, he probably didn’t even know it was her yet. Goddamn, but Jake could be an idiot sometimes. He was surprised again when Bro said, “No, they weren’t.”

Jake blinked up at him. “What?”

“They weren’t _all_ massacred.”

Jake huffed. “What, you mean the children? Don’t you get it? She likes letting the kids live until she has a use for them. Children are easy to control and manipulate. As soon as she’s done with them…” He gestured to the slew of dead girl pics.

Bro smirked down at him. "You didn't even know who'd designed the thumbdrives for Jade, did you? Hell, maybe you even thought it was the twins, like I did. But when I realized that the Speakers had all been supernatural, I bought Roxy a new system and she ran facial recognition for me." Bro tossed the folder containing the remainder of his collected photos onto the table. “Look familiar to you?” he asked.

Hesitantly, Jake opened the folder. Inside were photos of a man. Most of the time, he was at the side of the Condesce, though a few he was without her and talking to one or two teenage girls. Some were publicity shots for some CrockerCorp event or another. Others were grainy captures from security footage. A few were in the form of printed articles about a girls’ school in Beacon County. Jake shook his head, shrugged. “I guess I’ve seen him around?” he said. “He’s an assistant of hers. She calls him her Helmsman. I don’t know his name.”

“I do,” said Bro. “It’s Astrophel Captor.”

“Captor?” Jake looked down at the photos. He did sort of look like the twins.

“When he was with the Speakers, he was called Psionic.”

Jake sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Okay?” he said. “So he betrayed them. Where do you think you’re going with this?”

“Where I’m going is that this is bigger than even you know,” Bro growled. “And we’ll never find justice if we can’t get _everyone_ in on this.”

“Justice?” Jake laughed. “What justice, Dirk? Exactly what court do you imagine trying this in?”

Bro just shrugged again. “Iunno,” he said. “Let’s ask the lawyer.” And then Jake’s heart leapt into his throat when Bro turned to the window of the supposedly empty observation room. “Whatcha think, Red?”

And then fucking Rubena “Redglare” Pyrope popped up from where she’d been hiding _under_ the window-mirror, listening in. She grinned back at him like an alligator and gave her thumbs up.


	6. Chapter 6

You knock on the door and wait. Inside is a sound vaguely similar to a bull in a china shop. Or so you imagine. You have to admit you don’t have much rodeo experience yourself.

You wait a very patient four seconds, then knock again louder. “Um, Nepeta?” you call. “You home?”

The door opens. Nepeta stares at your shirt a bit wild-eyed and very guilty. She’s not looking you in the face, but she never does with anyone. “Oh, um, wow, hi Dave, um…” She scratches her neck and very pointedly does not open the door any wider than it takes to have a conversation with you. “You know, um, when I said we could hang out, I didn’t mean… Well, that is…”

“Look, I know,” you tell her. “I know this was all sorts of unkind, but if you don’t let me talk to her, Bro’s gonna dig up some half-assed child welfare reason for a warrant, and that’s not a threat, shit, it’s just the way things are. We’re getting kinda desperate here, and I just want conversation. That’s all. I promise.”

“With… Meulin?” she asks carefully.

“Katherine,” you tell her.

The look of betrayal punches you right in the stomach. “You told your bro?” she says.

“I’m sorry. I had to. There’s a lot of Speaker stuff coming up with the investigation and－”

“What investigation?” she asks.

“Oh, uh, right, sorry,” you mumble. “Um, the murders. Maya and Cronus, primarily. But also Maya’s older sisters. What CrockerCorp has to do with everything. Somehow, Speakers keep getting mentioned, and there’s not an actual connection yet, so maybe it’s not anything, but if she… if she could just tell us… anything, really. I… I don’t know, Nepeta. It’s a reach. I can’t pretend it’s not.”

She sighs and turns away from the door. “MOM! SOMEONE WANTS TO COME IN TO SEE YOU! IS THAT OKAY?”

You don’t hear a reply back, just the sound of her cat vocalizing, but Nepeta opens the door anyway. You enter, and she closes it behind you. She glowers up at you defensively. (Well, more she glowers at your shirt.) You can’t really blame her. She’ll probably never want to hang out again, and maybe you weren’t close in the first place, but she’s a sweet girl and doesn’t deserve railroading like this. “What you want to ask about is pretty traumatic. So be nice, okay? If I tell you to leave, you had _better_ leave,” she warns you, and you nod quickly. It’s all fair, you agree.

She considers for a moment, then sighs heavily and turns to lead you the few steps through the main room into the kitchen and then to the back of the house where the sisters have their single large shared bedroom, where apparently her mom is lounging on the floor.

You stop still in the doorway the second you see her. Of all the things you didn’t expect from Nepeta’s mom, top of the list has gotta be that she would be _blue_.

“Mom, this is Dave,” says Nepeta.

Katherine grins up at you with teeth like razors and warmth like sunshine. She’s also got claws. whiskers, pointy ears, spots, a goddamn _tail_... “Ha-o, Ahv!” she greets brightly.

She has no tongue. “Uh, hi. Um.” You glance to Nepeta for help, but Nepeta just shrugs and sits on the edge of one of the twin beds, clearly communicating that, hey, this was your asshole idea. Right. Okay. Speakers. Right. “Um, I was wondering if I could talk to you about the Speakers?”

She gives you a bemused look. “Ahk?”

“Uh… yeah, okay, I can see how that’s maybe not the right phrasing,” you admit, and she laughs at you. Well, at least she’s not offended. Jesus, those are some murdery claws, though. Um. “Do you want me to get you a notebook and pen? Or… uh, maybe Nepeta can sign, and－”

“I’m not helping,” Nepeta huffs.

Quick as a flash, Katherine hops onto the bed next to her daughter, nuzzles her cheek briefly, and then starts digging for something behind the bed, and it’s only then that you realize she’s naked. You’d been distracted by the whole blue jaguar-woman thing. You find a very interesting spot on the ceiling, and Nepeta snickers at you. Your neck still aches from Dirk’s bullshit earlier today, and you try not to rub at the still-healing wound.

A moment later, something hits your chest, and you look down. Katherine is perched in front of you with a stack of composition notebooks. “Oh, uh, okay, I guess this works for－” And then you see the title on the top one. _Dreams of the Sufferer ’01_.

You look at her, and she smiles at you. You glance over to Nepeta, who’s scowling. Nepeta says, “Mom, those are too precious to－”

“Mrreeear,” Katherine replies, waving her off.

You redistribute the notebooks’ weight to be held mostly in your left arm so you can look through them with your right. The second notebook is _The History of the Sufferer, pt. 2_ , and the next is _Dreams of the Sufferer ’99_ , and the next is _An Account of Signs_ , and so on and so on. You look to Katherine again. “You.. You’d really let me borrow these?”

She smiles and meows at you. “Ih ahw oo ib oo oh abow eh ee’ah.”

“Uh…”

“She says it’s all you need to know about the Speakers,” Nepeta mumbles. She’s still sulking on the bed and, awe shit, she’s tearing up.

You step forward and set the notebooks down on the bed. The two Leijons look up at you with twin expressions of confusion. “Sorry, I… I shouldn’t have pushed like this. Keep these. I don’t want to come between you and your mom.”

She doesn’t say anything, so you start to go, but you stop when she starts talking. “If that was a risk, we'd have never let you in.”

Confused, you turn back to her. “Sorry, what?”

“Kanimas don’t have alphas; they have masters,” Nepeta says quietly, and her mom pouts and curls up at her feet exactly the way Jaspers has done with Rose and Roxy. “That’s why we have to watch her so carefully. We’re her sworn masters. If someone manages to sever the bond somehow, we lose her forever. They will have absolute control. She doesn’t have any free will that isn’t given to her.”

“Jesus,” you whisper. “Nepeta, I don’t want to hurt your mom. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I want people to stop hurting. I want to stop bullshit like this.”

Nepeta runs her fingers through her mother’s hair, and Katherine purrs and leans into the touch. “Yeah, okay,” she says. “Okay, you can borrow the notebooks. But only borrow!”

You smile and nod, leaning forward to take the notebooks back. “I’ll scan them all and get them back to you as soon as possible.”

“Karkat doesn’t know,” she mumbles.

You carefully lift the notebooks to try to keep them from toppling to the floor, because then you might never get them all stacked up again. “About werewolf shit? Yeah, I got that.”

“About any of it. Mr. Slick doesn’t want him to remember.”

That gives you pause. “Slick knows?” you ask.

Nepeta just shrugs. “He says he doesn’t believe in the supernatural, and he won’t let anyone talk about it around him, but I know he knows because the Midnight Crew are the reason Mom is alive.” She shakes her head and says, “I think Mr. Slick is afraid of what might happen if Karkat and Kankri got anywhere near their father’s footsteps. And Mr. Slick does really bad things when he’s scared.”

You swallow nervously. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” You glance to Katherine. “One last question, if you don’t mind, Ms. Leijon? Um, do you know what happened to Dolorosa and Sufferer?”

Katherine makes an unimaginably morose cat sound and looks away from you, leaning even harder into her daughter. Nepeta frowns and says, “She said, ‘I hope not.’ I don’t think she’ll answer more. You should leave now.”

“Yeah, uh, okay,” you tell her. “Um, thanks.”

And then you leave.

* * *

turntechGodhead [TG] has opened new memo on board: WHO LET THE DAVE OUT  
TG: sup  
\-- texanTransplant [TT] joined memo --  
TT: Hey. I am just finishing up at the office. How did your side quest go?  
TG: im currently scanning in the collected works of the disciple  
TT: Wow, uh, okay. I do not recall ordering a bucketload of crazy. But sure.  
TT: I thought you were going to interview her?  
TG: yeah that was the plan  
TG: great plan actually glad i insisted on it  
TG: but as it turns out its kinda hard to interview someone whos got no fucking tongue  
TT: Jesus.  
\-- sheriffStilinski [SS] joined memo --  
TG: also shes a cat  
\-- sheriffStilinski [SS] left memo --  
TG: he still hasnt figured out this internet thing huh  
TT: Actually, I think you scared him off with the cat thing.  
TG: whatever  
TG: howre things on your end  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] joined memo --  
TT: Well, we were not able to talk Jake out of dropping the confession, yet. I am working on it. By which I mean there are some guilt-inducing photos wallpapering his cell.  
TG: and you wonder where dirk got the creepy from  
TT: Just because I haven’t typed yet doesn’t mean I’m not here.  
TG: i know  
TT: Anyway, Redglare thinks she can dig up an excuse to have Stilinski and me check out that girls’ school, see what kind of mad inappropriate that helmsdude is up to there.  
TG: eugh creepy  
TT: Seconded.  
TT: And I know from creepy, apparently.  
TT: Renegade said you sent him a poem about a bear?  
TG: yeah cuz you were busy being weird at harley  
TG: okay first of all DO NOT DIG INTO THE SOURCE  
TG: for serious bro ive fractured enough friendships recently  
TG: if this apparently psychic friend wants her privacy can we all please just let her keep it for once  
TT: So this is Aradia we’re talking about?  
TG: GODDAMMIT DIRK  
TT: Actually, that was my guess, too.  
TT: You are not good at hiding shit, bro.  
TT: But yeah I can pretend to know nothing so she feels safe.  
TT: Sure, whatever. She’s psychic?  
TG: um not really she has like vision feelings about dead people shortly after or shortly before they die  
TG: in this case it was shortly after  
TT: And she wrote a poem about a bear vision?  
TG: she writes down her impressions  
TG: this is the one she saw right before i got bit the one that made her start running  
TG: i am the br0ther and i am angry and i never meant this t0 get s0 0ut 0f hand the taste 0f his bl00d rides under my t0ngue  
TG: i am the br0ther and i th0ught i c0uld have it all but all i have n0w is bear claws in my chest bear maw 0n my thr0at  
TG: i am the father and i will n0t get there fast en0ugh and all that is left 0f my s0n is a scream in the dark i curse the witch  
TG: i am the bear and this is all i ever will be bl00d in my inside and bl00d 0n my 0utside and bl00d 0n my life  
TG: thats it  
TT: Okay, I’m no longer the creepiest person you know.  
TT: What the hell is that shit?  
TG: its what she saw  
TG: she doesnt remember much anymore she says the visions fade really fast like waking from a dream thats why she has to record them as soon as possible  
TG: but these are even vaguer than usual because she was busy running the fuck away for the first several minutes  
TT: So she has no idea what she means at all?  
TG: shes pretty sure its about the amporas  
TG: and shes pretty sure they were literally killed by a bear  
TT: …  
TT: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

* * *

You wake up to an electric shock through your spine. “YEEP!” you screech, shooting upright and, oh, hey, you’re in the forest before dawn. This is new and different. But, hey, that was the plan, right?

Of course, then you’re shocked _again_ , and you fall to the ground with a twitch. “Goddammit, Dirk!” you snarl through your teeth, but it’s already over. If the damn tracking chip goes off again, you swear you’re gonna rip it out of your neck.

Someone is laughing behind you. You leap to your feet. Shit shit shit it’s the－ Makara?

Gamzee Makara, the pothead who had been three years behind and in your class when he finally dropped out (The only reason he wasn’t another grade down was because Karkat was “helping” him.), is standing there in the goddamn woods between two trees, grinning at you like a damn fool, eyes half-lidded like he’s almost asleep, and a baseball bat with spikes in it covered in bloodstains in each hand. Holy fucking shit.

You start to back up a step, but then Gamzee shakes his head once and looks up above you. Almost before you can turn around, a dark shape drops down from the trees to the forest floor behind you.

It’s a goddamn bear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last update until I come back from vacation! Check the end notes for teaser summaries of upcoming fics! ;P

You’ve known a lot of crazy, violent, and/or criminal people in your short, short life. None of them have beaten someone with a spiked club. The bloodstains on said club says otherwise of Gamzee Makara.

He smiles at you. Wide. Threatening. Chilling. He starts to speak.

You make a run for it off to the side, away from Gamzee and the bear. Which would be the absolutely wrong thing to do if you were human, but you feel more confident gambling on previously untested werewolf powers rather than on Gamzee’s good graces. Come on, panic-induced transformation, don’t fail now.

Your skin burns and your jaw aches and your vision sharpens and all the sounds of the forest come up at you in a wave. Your muscle strength is renewed. Your footing is more sure and solid than it has ever been.

The bear is faster.

It’s in front of you in the blink of an eye, and it straight up backhands you off your feet and straight into Gamzee’s chest. He laughs his honking rasping laugh as you fall, winded, onto your ass in front of him. On reflex, you duck down with your arm over your head to block the oncoming blow.

Instead, he abandons your back and comes around side you, putting a foot on each side of your hips to stand over you. He pushes your shoulder down to the ground with one of his fucked up bats. You fall backward, hyperventilating as he crouches down to bring his face closer to yours. His bats are pressed down across your chest, keeping you down and making it hard to breathe. “You and me, brother, we’re gonna get our talk on, now.”

“T-talk?” you repeat. “Jesus, can’t you use a phone?”

He laughs boomingly. He stinks like a pancaked skunk on the side of the road in summer that’s already been dead a few days. “Nah, man,” he says. “These kinda things, they gotta be gettin done all face-to-face, you fuckin know?”

No, you do not know. “Uh, sure.” Oh hey, that thing behind Gamzee isn’t actually a bear. It looks more like some dude had decided to skin a bear, put the skeleton on the outside, and _fucking wear it_. In fact, the bear's skull is functioning as a mask for the guy. You are not any less frightened than you were five seconds ago.

“You see,” Gamzee continues rambling, “your alphucker got his heretic maw all up on a power that ain’t his. I wanna be the one to give it on back.”

“I don’t know where he is or who he is, why the fuck do you think I’m out here in the woods at night?” you demand. Okay, maybe you should be politer to the dude pressing weapons into your chest. A few of the spikes seemed to have poked you _just_ enough to start a little blood going.

His smile is gone. He leans down further, pressing the clubs harder into your chest (oh yay that’s more of your blood) and speaks to you through his teeth and dear god his mouth smells like a corpse. He’s got some kinda warpaint bullshit smeared over his face, but you recognize the scabs and pockmarks of a junkie who picks at their skin. He has maybe escalated from weed. Fun. “If’n you don’t, my fine brother… If you let your motherfucker get goin on his merry way… then I am gonna have no fucking choice BUT TO HANG YOU BY YOUR BOWELS NEXT TO THAT HERETIC BROTHER OF YOURS.”

He leans back and smirks down at you. “Chill?” he asks.

And then Roxy shoots him in the chest, and he goes sprawling backward with a cry of “Mother of FUCK!” and bear-man runs past you to the shooter. If Roxy’s in a tree, she won’t be safe there.

You scramble out from under Gamzee to try to get to the bear before it gets to Roxy, but then more gunfire rings out. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG BANG BANG BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!

Then there’s the PCHOW of a shotgun. And another. Then the tatatatatatat of automatic fire.

Gamzee gets to his feet. There’s blood all down the front of his t-shirt, but he doesn’t seem to really notice. With a huff, he picks up his dropped weapons, shoots you a warning glare, then shouts “COME ON AT ME, BROTHER!” which seems to be the summoning call of the bear-man because they both run off into the darkness and the gunfire ceases.

With an exhausted groan, you get to your feet, but before you can even think about marching your ass in the direction of that gunfire, someone seizes you up in a tight hug. Huh. Roxy sure has gotten muscular lately??? “Uh…”

After what feels like a millennia and was probably five seconds, Bro releases you and turns you around to face him. “You’re okay?” he demands. Jesus, he’s actually scared. No, the smell isn't right. Fear usually has an undercurrent of uncertainty. There’s no uncertainty here. He’s just plain horrified. Of what? Makaras? He just successfully scared them off, big deal. “Dave! Speak! Are you okay? Did they do anything to you?”

You rub your chest where the spike wounds are already starting to heal. “Nothing permanent,” you tell him. Even with your improved night vision, you still can’t see behind his shades in the dark, but his body language has gone tight and anxious, his heart is going a million miles an hour, anxiety is coming off him in waves and, finally, fear is starting to show up in his scent. You have never seen him like this.

You’re about to say something about it when suddenly all your senses go on point. There’s… nearby… It can’t be!

Bro’s hand lands on your shoulder, and you force yourself to take a breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we found him. Tracking you worked.”

You turn the direction Bro had come from, that all the gunfire had come from just a moment ago, and your friends are coming toward you, Jade with her grandfather’s shotgun, John with Jake’s pistols, Roxy with an automatic rifle. John grins at you and runs up to sling his arms around your shoulders, accidentally knocking your shoulder with the butt of a gun he’s not used to wielding. Normally, you’d teasingly insult him as you squirmed out from under his grip, but your eyes are glued to the next figures to follow. To Dirk with a － is that a _harpoon gun??_ － slung over his shoulder, hauling a handcuffed Eridan Ampora along by the bicep.

Jade pulls John off you and off to the side, exchanging worried looks. As Dirk brings Eridan to a stop a couple yards from you, Roxy stands to the side but between you and him, her rifle aimed at Eridan’s chest. Eridan rolls his eyes at her. Bro’s hand tightens on your shoulder. “Dave?” he asks, voice sounding a little strained. “Is it him?”

You don’t understand. You’d already checked out Eridan. You hadn’t sensed your alpha. You hadn’t sensed… anything. Ugh, of course, a book isn’t a person. Eridan may have been in that house at _some point_ , but Karkat had been telling the truth. You hadn’t sensed Eridan as your alpha because Eridan wasn’t fucking _there_.

But now he is. Now he’s standing right in front of you, and you sense it. You sense him like a home, a place of belonging, a throne to bow at. It’s so deeply wrong and incongruous that it makes you want to scream, and you can’t answer Bro, because the words you need to say are hidden behind a growl of fury, and

fuck it

fuck fucking everything

Why hold back? Why play nice? He certainly never fucking did.

You launch yourself at him, and you probably would’ve gotten at least a punch in if it weren’t for the fact that Bro’s hand was already on your shoulder. His cop training (and years of kicking your ass in practice strife) kicks in immediately, and he throws you backward onto the ground. You fight back with a growl, raking your claws straight across Bro’s face. He flinches back but keeps his hold on you. Jade is soon at your side, helping him push you over so he can sit on you and get your hands cuffed, too. You’re screaming, you’re howling pure rage and pain, everything you’ve been holding in the past couple weeks. You scream that you’re going to kill him. You scream that you hate him. You scream that he’s ruined everything.

Eridan’s bored gaze finally drifts back to you, his lip curling in disdain, and he says, “Yeah, I know.”

* * *

When Karkat came home, his dad was sitting on the couch, smoking while he waited. “Where’ve ya been, kid?” Spades Slick snarled without really bothering to look in Karkat’s direction, as though he was genuinely interested in the news reports on the television in front of him.

Karkat shrugged, fake-casual, and closed the door behind him. “I was hanging out with Feferi,” he said.

“Another party?”

“She only throws those on full moons, ’cuz she’s a giant weirdo,” Karkat said. He tilted his head curiously, but Slick still wasn’t watching. “Why?”

“Peixes’s got more and more police attention coming down on ’em lately,” Slick grumbled.

“So? I’ve done nothing to worry about being caught in,” Karkat assured him. He started toward his room, cutting past the television, but stopped when Slick spoke again.

“Has she?”

Karkat turned to face his dad, who _still_ wasn’t facing him. “Are you honest to god expressing concern right now about me hanging out with _the wrong sort of people_?” Karkat demanded, not sure whether to laugh or be horrified.

Slick tilted his head just enough to glance Karkat’s way. “Peixes owns the Felt.”

Karkat just shrugged. “That’s a crew problem, not a personal problem, and besides, she’s not her mother.” He couldn’t look Slick in the eye though. “Can I go now?”

Slick returned his attention to the television and took another drag off his cigar. “Boxcars called a few hours ago, saying Ampora hadn’t been around since sundown.” He gestured to the TV. “Seems the sheriff caught him in the forest.”

“Well, that solves that, I guess,” Karkat mumbled.

“Why did you draw on your walls?”

Karkat startled. “Wh-what?”

Slick eyed him carefully. “There’s symbols all over your room. Why?”

It was clear by Karkat’s expression that he had no idea anything had been drawn on his wall, but he quickly decided to hide it. “I… I guess I got bored?”

“You guess?”

“I FELT LIKE IT, OKAY? CAN I GO NOW?!”

Slick eyed him for a moment, then gave a brief nod. Karkat retreated like his shoes were on fire. Slick heard the sound of Karkat’s door being flung opened and slammed shut.

Slick picked up his phone and scrolled through his messages again.

Droog: I’m hearing that kankri has been having visions  
Droog: I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this happens at the same time that strider starts looking into the speakers  
Droog: We need to talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here are your teaser summaries:
> 
> #6: The Fear - Bro tracks down Astrophel Captor and finds way more than he bargained for, including a piece of his own past. Meanwhile, Dave tries to figure out his sudden increase of social circles while Rose gets friendly with the enemy...
> 
> #7: Dance of the Dead - Dave prepares for the Winter Formal and stresses over how to smooth things over with Karkat, but the various threats trailing him have now followed him to the school...
> 
> #8: All Things Go - The Disciple's notebooks shed light on Karkat and Kankri's visions, and all sides prepare for a showdown.


End file.
